“Why do most men come here, Nora Gail?” Rudely, he brushed past her and went inside. If he’d been anybody else, he would have been shot right between the eyes with the pistol she kept hidden in the garter belt she always wore.
“Obviously, you haven’t noticed. Business was so slow tonight, we closed early.”
“Since when has that mattered to you and me?”
“Since you started taking advantage. Like now.”
“Don’t give me any lip tonight.” He was already at the top of the stairs, heading toward her private room. “I don’t want conversation. I don’t want to be entertained. I just want to be screwed, okay?”
Propping her fist on a generous and shapely hip, the madam’s voice dripped sarcasm as she called up to him, “Do I have time to put the cat out first?”
Alex was unable to sleep, so she was awake when the telephone rang. It still alarmed her because of the hour. Instead of turning on the nightstand lamp, she groped in the darkness for the receiver and brought it to her ear. “Hello,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from crying earlier. “Hello,” she repeated.
“Hidy, Miz Gaither.”
Her heart raced with excitement, but she said crossly, “You again? I hope you’re ready to talk, since you woke me from a sound sleep.” She’d learned from Greg that reluctant witnesses were often more prone to talk when you diminished the importance of what they might have to say.
“Don’t go gettin’ hoity-toity with me, little lady. I know sumthin’ you want to know. Bad.”
“Such as?”
“Such as who did in yore mama.”
Alex concentrated on regulating her breathing. “I think you’re bluffing.”
“I ain’t.”
“Then, tell me. Who was it?”
“You think I’m stupid, lady? You think Lambert ain’t bugged yore telephone?”
“You’ve seen too many movies.” All the same, she looked suspiciously at the receiver she held in her hand.
“You know where the Last Chance is?”
“I’ll find it.”
“Tomorrow evenin’.” He specified a time.
“How’ll I know you?”
“I’ll know you.”
Before she could say anything else, he hung up. Alex sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, staring into the darkness. She recalled Reede’s warning about getting hurt. Her imaginative mind conjured up all the horrible things that could happen to a woman alone. By the time she lay back down, her palms were sweating and sleep was even more elusive.
Chapter 13
“You’ll never guess what she’s up to now.”
Purcell County’s sheriff lifted the steaming coffee mug to his lips, blew into it, and sipped. It scorched his tongue. He didn’t care. He needed a fix of caffeine in the worst way.
“Who are we talking about?” he asked the deputy who was standing in the doorway of his private office, wearing a goofy grin that annoyed the hell out of him. He didn’t like guessing games, and he was especially in no mood for one this morning.
The deputy jerked his head in the direction of the other side of the building. “Our resident prosecutor with the baby blues, perky tits, and the legs that go on forever.” He kissed the air with a noisy, juicy smack of his lips.
Reede slowly lowered his feet from the corner of his desk. His eyes glittered with a frigid light. “Are you referring to Miss Gaither?”
The deputy didn’t have an overabundance of gray matter, but he knew when he’d gone too far. “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”